


you're sharp, alright

by okayantigone



Series: eat their young - Fox!Riko AU [5]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Buthered Japanese Mythology, Clubbing, Drug Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Fox Riko AU, M/M, Nicky has a bad night, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-06 17:30:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16392095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okayantigone/pseuds/okayantigone
Summary: in the tradition of war established by his father, colonizer of his mother, purveyor of the good faith, eraser of childhoods, nicky too has become accustomed to a love that demands submission, like maria hemmick before him, he too bruises himself on the ideal of happiness when it ultimately implodes in his face.





	you're sharp, alright

**Author's Note:**

> the mood of the day is: BAD  
> if you don't want to read about nicky and riko fucking, then this is not the fic for you, idk

 

in the tradition of war established by his father, colonizer of his mother, purveyor of the good faith, eraser of childhoods, nicky too has become accustomed to a love that demands submission, like maria hemmick before him, he too bruises himself on the ideal of a happy family when it ultimately implodes in his face.

 

his love is broken and impure as he is. it’s not _right._ because if his love was real and right, the way aaron’s love for katelyn, or matt’s for dan, or seth’s for allison, then he wouldn’t be feeling – this.

 

something dangerous coils inside him, under his ribcage, filling his belly uncomfortably as the flashing lights of the interstate fill his eyes up with fluorescent brightness, and behind him andrew reemerges from his drug-laden sleep, gold eyes blinking awake, and beside him aaron leans on the glass, cooly disinterested, but nicky’s light choked eyes are focused on the pinpoint of riko’s viper in his rearview mirror as it follows behind them.

 

if he squints hard enough, he can almost fool himself into thinking he’s seeing the other boys behind the tinted glass, riko, and kevin sharing their private silences, their secrets of blood and broken bone.

 

they are going out to eden’s, to celebrate kevin’s cast coming off. allegedly. the curve of riko’s full contemptuous mouth when nicky informed him was _dangerous._ the incline of his head in condescending acceptance set nicky’s heart thrumming. beside him kevin was stif and deferential, waiting.

 

“i don’t see why not,” riko had said, voice smooth as glass. then he turned his back to nicky, and he was faced with the dismissal, his eyes meeting kevin’s over nicky’s shoulder.

 

nicky had spend a lot of time apologizing for the twins. kevin did not apologize for riko. his green eyes were still. the two of them retreated into their own private world of two, and nicky, having served his purpose, was inconsequential.

 

now he was driving, and thinking about that ruinous mouth, and kevin’s shaking hands, stilled into fists. his love was impure. was _ungodly._ because if he truly loved erik, he wouldn’t possible be thinking this. list, or no list.

 

the excuse andrew had come up with was flimsy at best. but kevin’s cast had come off, and testing their mettle was important, if vastly unnecessary. they didn’t need to drag riko and kevin to eden’s to suss out the threat. the threat was ever present in riko’s smile, eyes, blades, in the cut of his starvation-sculpted face, and the deep gouges of his tattoo.

 

self-flaggelation had never been part of nicky’s religious practice, but there was a welcome port for him to break apart against, there is what he could choose to bruise himself on, so he could relearn to look himself in the mirror and not see his father’s i-told-you-so eyes.

 

the booth at sweeties was cramped, and nicky was pressed bodily into riko’s side, their flanks melded together, the seams of their trousers aligned under the table, thigh to thigh, riko’s tailored slacks and nicky’s skinny jeans.

 

riko picked at the ice cream as though it was a curious and unfamiliar dish that he was unsure how to go about, daking delicate, birdlike spoonfulls into his mouth, letting it melt on his tongue. nicky studied the un-tattooed half of his face, the slight curve of his nose, where tetsuji moriyama had chosen to rearrange his face for his failure to rearrange kevin’s bones.

 

kevin had taken one look at the ice cream and promptly scoffed. nicky had worked at sweetie’s. he couldn’t in good faith reccomment the frozen yogurt. kevin washed out his bitterness with an iced tea, under riko’s scrupulously arched eyebrow.

 

and then they broke out the dust.

 

whatever reaction andrew had been preparing for, wasn’t riko’s expert peel of the packet open. he took it on his tongue and then moved it to the back of his tongue like he’d done it a thousand times before. kevin followed suit, and riko gave andrew a cool look over the rim of his empty ice-cream cup.

 

“cracker dust? classy, minyard. thoughtful.”

 

andrew had a thoughtful expression on his face. “you’re welcome,” he said finally, like he’d just made up his mind about something.

 

the viper followed them to eden’s. riko produced a silver moneyclip with a thick stack of crisp banknotes in it from somewhere, and handed over two hundred dollar bills before following into the VIP parking. nicky studied the transaction in his mirror, the graceful curve of riko’s wrist as it offered the money, and the condescending smirk he’d come to recognize as riko’s default expression when dealing with strangers.

 

he parked before nicky did, and waited for him, leaning on the hood of his car, hands in his pockets. he peeled off when nicky approached him and seamlessly took place beside him, matching his long strides to nicky’s.

 

“you do this often, then?” he asks. there’s a genuine curiosity in there, but nicky doesn’t for a moment think he’s the one meriting it. riko and andrew are playing each other off court, have been, since kevin and riko first arrived with their blood money and their secrets, and cause the biggest scandal in class i exy.

 

“yes,” nicky says vaguely. the silence stretches uncomfortably between them. nicky doesn’t know what to say, and riko has clearly left it up to him to continue the situation. for all his ability to play the public, he’s withdrawn in close quarters, nicky has observed. when the music of the club engulfs them, nicky is grateful.

 

riko blinks against the flashing lights, and then moves. the movement is almost like a shrug, barely noticeable, but it’s as if riko shed something. a skin, a persona. _like a snake._ nicky can’t help but think.

 

their table is already piled with drinks. riko takes three jager bombs in quick succession, and his eyes are hollow and dark, huge and unblinking on his pallid face. his smile is wolfish. beside him, kevin polishes off what looks like his second vodka cola.

 

“you treated us,” riko says. his voice thrums in tune with the music. “it’s our turn to treat you.”

 

kevin rolls his eyes, and mouths “dramatic” to no one in particular.

 

the baggie between them swallows up all the noise, and creates a vacuum that sucks in their gazes. on his other side, nicky hears aaron’s sharp intake of breath. the colorful pills look unassuming like gummy bear vitamins, encased in the flimsy packet.

 

“any takers?” riko asks, still amiable, voice thick with warmth and alcohol. he pops a tablet on his tongue and makes a show of taking it into his mouth, the pale pink tip of his tongue disappearing between full lips. nicky wants to follow it, and see how sharp those teeth really are. he wants to call erik.

 

beside him andrew looks as though the world is suddenly on a tilt.

 

aaron breathes out a sharp little “no” and turns sharply around, disappearing into the crowd towards the bar. andrew’s composure is disintegrating by the second. nicky takes a tablet, smiles, even though he’s shaking. he doesn’t want to find out how sharp riko’s teeth are by witnessing him tear out andrew’s throat. he doesn’t want to find out how much the life of a moriyama secondborn is worth in the blood of a pair of unwanted foster kids.

 

andrew is looking at riko, but riko is looking at kevin, his eyes so big they look like they’ll swallow all the light in the room, and kevin is looking at andrew, an arrogant smirk twisting his mouth perversely.

 

“to my recovery,” he says sardonically and pops a pill, chasing it down with the rest of aaron’s drink. riko settles a hand over kevin’s scarred fingers possessively and gives them a light squeeze.

 

“shall we dance?”

 

he sounds like he’s offering kevin the final waltz in a glitzy ballroom under crystal chandeliers. kevin smiles at him like he personally has hung up all the stars in the sky, which is fine, because riko is looking at kevin like if he did in fact hand the sun, kevin is the reason.

 

nicky watches that same scarred hand sliding into riko’s back pocket as they make their way to the dance.

 

he shoots andrew a helpless look.

 

“check on aaron?” he says, and makes it a suggestion, because there’s no way andrew will listen to him otherwise, he never has. an unbidden, cruel part of nicky thinks _ungrateful_ and the guilt of it grates. he doesn’t want to think it about andrew, doesn’t want to be unfair to him. andrew nods curtly, eyes brimming with disgust on the baggie of pills. nicky pockets it, and follows the other two into the crowded dancefloor.

 

their bodies move in perfect synchron with one another, after years of intuiting each other’s position and movement, and they only have eyes for each other. they’re in the middle of a club, surrounded by people, and yet nicky feels like he’s just walk into the privacy of riko’s off-campus apartment and caught them in the middle of some sacred intimacy.

 

their hands brush each other as they move to the beat of the electric music pounding through the foundation of the club.

 

riko extends an arm imperiously, and nicky takes it, drawn into their little bubble feeling their warmth, their solid lean bodies. the lights overhead shudder, and in the white flashes, he catches the upturned whites of riko’s eyes, the black-and-white of him, nearly transparent, a ghost whose mouth grazes nicky’s cheek when he whispers “hear the bass.”

 

the bass drop revebrates through the room, shakes the floor, shakes the foundations of nicky’s faith, tastes like heart palpitations when he swallows past it.

 

“i thought you didn’t like me,” he says over the music.

 

kevin settles a hand on his hip, large and warm through nicky’s jeans, rocking his body slowly. riko’s eyebrows raise, incredulous.

 

“why wouldn’t i?”

 

“well you’re always so – “ nicky gestures. he doesn’t need to finish. riko knows damn well what he’s like. the drugs and the alchol have made him bold. “and you know. the gay thing.”

 

riko rolls his eyes, and the laugh that escapes out of his mouth is the most genuine sounding thing nicky’s heard from him.

 

“you think i don’t like you because you’re gay? because i’m homophobic?”

 

he’s stopped dancing, and standing still while the rest of the room is moving makes him look even more like a mirage.

 

“nicky, i think you’re unfocused and unambitious and your game needs serious improvement, and i’m disgusted by your playing style and attitude in practice on a personal level.” riko says, frankly. his words are cutting, but the friendly smile is affixed on his face. “but i don’t _dislike_ you, and i’m certainly not homophobic,” he finishes. nicky senses movement behind him.

 

“do you want to know how not homophobic i am?” riko asks, seriously. nicky can feel himself nodding. then suddenly, he finds himself trapped in between kevin and riko while they kiss. kevin’s arms slide around him to touch riko, and riko’s chin digs sharply into his shoulder as he uses nicky’s body weight for leverage.

 

and then nicky feels the distinct feel of someone sliding their hand into his back pocket.

 

kevin is laughing behind him, but not cruelly. riko’s got that curious little smile on his face, licking that full mouth nicky’s been fantasizing about since he was sixteen.

 

“i’ve wanted this since i was a teenager,” he blurts out.

 

riko laughs warmly, and pulls nicky closer against him. “be good for me and you’ll get what you want. isn’t that right, kevin?”

 

nicky chances a look to his side at kevin, who looks mildly amused. he shakes his head, still smiling, and mouths _have fun_ at riko. riko cups nicky’s jaw, and tilts his head back to face him.

 

“do you want to know what it feels to kiss a king?”

 

yeah. nicky does.

 

getting back to the house is a bit of a blur. they take the viper, and leave kevin to get home with the twins. nicky gives riko direction in between mouthing along his neck and jaw. they barely make it inside, stumbling over the doorway.

 

nicky guides riko into his room, shuts the door and presses the younger man bodily against it.

 

“bossy,” riko huffs while nicky sucks a sizeable bruise on his throat.

 

nicky grins. “just making sure you’re real.”

 

riko raises a hand to his neck to cover the skin. “oh, believe me. i’m real. i’m the realest thing that’s ever happened to you.”

 

then he pounces on nicky, making quick work of his shirt and jeans and nudging him aggressively on the bed.

his shirt is half unbuttoned and he removes it quickly, while he’s straddling nicky’s lap.

 

nicky lets out a gasp at the sight of the colorful ink on riko’s pale skin. there’s dragons, and samurai, and sakura trees, and geishas, a beautiful pattern of pinks and reds and deep blues.

 

_i am about to have sex with riko moriyama,_ he thinks. _i am about to have sex with the best exy player in the world, and also a member of the most powerful crime family in the country. this is happening. this is fine._

riko is a solid weight on top of him. he’s got a condom out, and he’s looking at nicky like a man on death row looks at a last meal. or something.

 

“do you mind if i?” he gestures at himself. “it’s been a while for me.”

 

it’s been a while for nicky too, but he’s distracted by two things. _one, riko has done this before, as in this, gay sex. two, riko has done this befose, as in this, bottoming._ then again, with a man like kevin around…

 

nicky shakes his head, smiles. “i don’t mind. lube’s in the bedside cabinet.”

 

riko braces himself on the mattress in a one armed push-up leaning over nicky to reach into the drawer. nicky studies the expanse of muscle beneath the ink.

 

he settles a hand in the dip of riko’s waist, splaying his fingers over the warm skin.

 

“what do they mean?” he asks.

 

riko tilts his head to the side. nicky traces the outline of a delicate, silk-laden skeleton with bambii growing out of its eyes.

 

“they’re all fables. the gashadokuro are the bones of men who died from starvation,” riko says. “the fable says that a man from bingo province in the hiroshima prefecture came upon a gashadokuro and removed the flowers growing from its eyes. he fed the monster rice, and the monster didn’t eat him in gratitude.”

 

nicky runs a finger gently trough the gashadokuro’s carved cheekbone, and raises his hand to cup riko’s face and trace his tattoo. “they’re beautiful.”

 

riko smiles. it’s a crooked, private thing. he leans down to kiss nicky. nicky runs his hands through riko’s dark hair, fisting the short strands for a better grip and pushes his tongue between those soft luscious lips. riko allows it, his mouth opening easy, and makes a soft little sound.

 

in the morning, he wakes up feeling pleasantly sore and warm, and his thoughts are muddled. beside him, riko sleeps on his side, back pressed into the wall, his face pillowed in his arms. he looks younger like this, more delicate. he must be as light a sleeper as andrew, because his eyes shoot open as soon as nicky stirs. a slow lazy smile spreads on his lips.

 

“good morning,” his voice is rough, and it sends a pleasant shudder down nicky’s spine.

 

“good morning,” nicky says.

 

“kevin and the twins made it hope okay,” riko reports. “kevin’s passed out ini the living room still, i’m pretty sure.”

 

“you’re not sporting a black eye, so i guess andrew didn’t fight you,” nicky says. he doesn’t sound nearly as petulant as he’d intended, but that’s what a good night always does to him. erik used to joke that he and nicky had to spend all their days in the bedroom if they wanted to –

 

erik.

 

they have the list. the agreement. but it was a hypothesis. their relationship was open. but nicky hadn’t ever -  except he had. with riko moriyama.

 

riko studies his face impassively, and the good humor slowly drains from his expression, until it’s as blank and impassive as during team meetings, that cool arrogant aloofness that nicky knows well, that marks him as _better._

he props himself up on his elbow to look at nicky, as if he can read his thoughts.

 

“tell andrew,” riko begins slowly, with measured words, “that i hope he’s satisfied with himself after last night. it was an _amusing_ little experiment.”

 

carefully he menaovers himself out of bed over nicky, and methodically starts picking his clothes off the floor to dress himself.

 

“tell your cousin that he won’t intimidate me with knife juggling and cracker dust. those are parlor tricks, and this is the big leagues. he thinks he can play at being a dangerous criminal? _i_ am the real thing, and he shouldn’t try me again.” he buttons his shirt carefully.

 

nicky can’t quite make his jaw work. the striken look on his face must mirror how he feels – shattered.

 

“i really don’t dislike you, nicky,” riko says, like that fucking _helps_ anything. “but the next time i choke you isn’t going to be because we’re fucking. you may tell andrew that as well, if he’s so determined to antagonize me.”

 

he walks out of the bedroom, and shuts the door quietly behind him. he may as well have slammed it.

nicky can hear him and kevin talk in the kitchen, silent japanese. he turns around, buries his face in the pillow and cries.


End file.
